


No Rest

by sunalso



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bats, F/M, Kissing, graveyard, sometime in s2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 20:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21214238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: S2 AU. Coulson has Hunter and Bobbi patrolling a graveyard together on Halloween, but Bobbi isn't scared. Probably. Not of the graveyard anyway.





	No Rest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gort](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gort/gifts).

“Why?” Hunter moaned, plunking himself down on the neatly manicured grass of the Shady Rest Graveyard.

Bobbi rubbed at the back of her neck, where the little hairs had been standing up since Coulson had dropped her and Hunter off. The intelligence linking the old Pennsylvanian graveyard to inhuman activity was shaky, but it was worth investigating. SHIELD teams were spread out over the entire town, looking for anything unusual. On Halloween night.

“Why what?” she asked.

“Why us? Why are we out here waiting on the Great Pumpkin to appear instead of in a nice pub enjoying free candy and autumn lager on tap?”

Bobbi heaved a sigh. “Because we’re the most qualified—”

“It’s a rhetorical question, Bob.”

“Right.” She frowned as mist crept slowly across the ground towards them, drifting between the headstones. It was really going to hamper visibility.

Hunter shuffled around and peered at the nearest gravestone. “Here lies Archibald Fredrick—”

“Stop,” she said.

He rolled his eyes, and he stood. “Now what?”

“Don’t read them. What if it’s a child’s gravestone?”

Hunter made a face. “Seriously? Your first thought isn’t: here lies some geezer with a mouthful of a name, but what if we’re standing on a—” He cut himself off and stepped back. “Fine, no reading.”

A howl drifted across the cemetery as clouds covered the face of the moon, plunging her and Hunter into darkness.

“Bloody hell,” he groaned. She reached towards the sound, finding his arm and running her palm down it until she reached his hand. Her fingers intertwined with his warm ones. “You’ve freezing,” he said, tugging her closer to him. The faint scent of his aftershave teased her, and it was hard not to wrap herself around him. He hadn’t changed the kind he’d used after the divorce, and the smell was familiar and comforting.

“I’m fine,” she said, hoping her voice sounded firmer than she thought it did.

“You’re not scared, are you?”

“Not of things that go bump in the night.”

She hoped he didn’t ask about the warm feelings for him that she’d never quite been able to kill and that lately had been showing up more and more, especially when she was close to him.

Hunter tugged at her. “Well, if you’re not scared, we should go check the mausoleums. If I was a spooky inhuman, that’s where I’d hang out.”

The clouds parted and the light of a nearly full moon silvered the graveyard. She walked beside Hunter, her hand still in his, simply because it was a good idea they didn’t get separated.

The mausoleums, glowing white in the moonlight, sat still and quiet as she and Hunter walked between them. Carved angels stared sightlessly at them, and Bobbi shivered.

“Still cold?” Hunter murmured, letting go of her hand to put an arm around her.

Bobbi stopped and turned towards him, meaning his palm slid to her hip. “Hunter.” His eyes were unreadable in the dark, but how his tongue wet his lips along with how his breathing hitched spoke volumes.

“What happens in the graveyard stays in the graveyard?” he said.

Bobbi leaned forward and kissed him, weeks, months, years of missing him fueling a desperate need to touch him. She yanked at his jacket, pulling it down his arms halfway, only to get distracted by the way his biceps moved under his shirt sleeves. Her hands clutched at his arms as she moaned.

“Bob,” he groaned. “Need you.” His lips were frantic on hers, and his tongue plunged into her mouth. An echo of the feeling of him pressing into her pulsed lower down, and she fumbled for his belt.

Right as something flew at her face.

Bobbi screeched and threw herself backward. Hunter yelped and tripped, ending up on his ass.

The leathery flap of wings and a tiny, indignant squeak made Bobbi cover her head as a bat flew close by her again before fluttering out of sight.

Her eyes went to Hunter.

His lips were pursed firmly together, but the corners of his mouth twitched. Bobbi waved a hand at him. “Go ahead.”

Hunter’s laughter came from deep down, and his shoulders shook with it. “I wish you could have seen yourself.”

Bobbi flicked her hair over her shoulder. “If you ever tell anyone—”

“That the great mockingbird was taken unawares by a bat? Nobody would believe me.”

“I was distracted.”

Hunter climbed to his feet. “I’m glad to hear I still have it.” He winked at her.

“Sure.” She wanted to wipe the smug expression right off his face.

His laughter faded. “Hey, um, what if we did some more of that in place with less dead people?”

“Well…” Bobbi wondered where the feelings that had made her stop kissing him in the first place had gone. Or if they’d ever been real and not a mask of hurt to cover up how easily Hunter could hurt her. She looked around. The people lying at rest here had once experienced desire and love, but now it was so much dust.

Why would she risk not enjoying being with Hunter, with what time she’d been granted?

Hunter looked down. “It’s fine if-“

“I want to,” she blurted. “I want to…everything.” Maybe even try again to be a _them_. Had they ever truly stopped? Had there been a second she hadn’t carried him with her?

Hunter held out his hand, and she took it, gripping him tightly. “I don’t want to end up in one of these places regretting not being with you because I’m scared.”

“I’m not going to be perfect,” he said. 

She snorted. “Yeah, I know.”

He gave her a crooked smile that melted her heart. “We should hang out in graveyards more often.”

“We should not.”

“I rather like this one. Add a TV with a footie match and a couple of beers on tap, and it’d be perfect.”

Bobbi laughed. “That’s what it’s missing. There’s enough gloom, spooky noises, and headstones. It just needs more beer.”

“Doesn’t everything?”

She squeezed his hand. “Absolutely not.”


End file.
